


Drones Buzzing about the Workers (and Sound Like a Bunch of Queens)

by mechanicaljewel



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Community: indeedsir, Gossip, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-24
Updated: 2007-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody loves Jeeves…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drones Buzzing about the Workers (and Sound Like a Bunch of Queens)

“…So you see,” Oofy Prosser finished, “I really had no choice but to let Edwards go.”  
  
But, hang on, it seems I’ve jumped the gun a bit. Normally when I do that, it is due to my perennial mental negligence and my eagerness to get into the bulk of the story, and I’ve got to reel myself back in so that all of you can get involved. That is what good stories do, of course. Involve the reader, that is. But this time, it is more due to my utter bafflement on where to start, for this tale revolves around some rather delicate subject matter. In fact, perhaps now I should give all those who are easily shocked the opportunity to abandon ship.  
  
All right, if you are still on board, you have been duly warned. The fact of the matter is Oofy had just finished telling the fellows at the Drones that he had, well, caught his valet Edwards  _in flagrante delicto_  with a porter.  
  
Oofy continued, “I was as nice as I could be about it, but when he told me that it was an ongoing thing between them, I had to put my foot down. I can’t have him sneaking off at odd hours to rendezvous with this porter chap. And if the neighbours ever got wind of it, well! just think how it would make me look. They could suspect me of being similarly inclined, keeping him around for unsavoury purposes. And of course there’s the risk that he could one day put his sights on yours truly.”  
  
“As if you’re so bally irresistible!” my cousin Claude chortled.  
  
“Be fair,” Eustace picked up, “we’re always having to wade through a sea of inverts any time we want to see Oofy. They’re always at his flat, trying to break down the door, right Oofy?” He grinned cheekily at the man he addressed.  
  
Oofy had a sour look on his face. “Laugh if you will, but I considered it a possibility, and so I took the action necessary.”  
  
While old Bertram Wooster here knows of the ways of the world, and has quite a few friends who work on Broadway, the whole catching-in-the-act thing was a concept that bore too much thinking to bother with at the moment. But the Code of the Woosters compelled me to feel some sympathy for this Edwards bird.  
  
“Well, I say, Oofy, that’s all well and good, but I should hope you didn’t just throw the man out on his ear with a letter that says, ‘This valet fond of Wildean practices, keep away from porters, employ at your own risk’?” I queried.  
  
“Oh, heavens no, Bertie, I gave him a good recommendation. Otherwise the question of why I didn’t phone the police would be raised. And whatever Edwards may be, he does not belong in the clink or the loony bin.”  
  
“Bertie’s just worried about what he would have to do if he caught Jeeves with the lift operator,” Claude said with a wicked glint in his eye.  
  
I was flabbergasted. “I was thinking no such thing!” I sputtered, and prepared to defend Jeeves’s honour.  
  
“Is Jeeves an invert?” Barmy interjected. “I didn’t know that.”  
  
“Jeeves is not an invert!” I cried. “At least, I don’t think so.”  
  
“Oh,” said Barmy. “Pity.”  
  
I was dumbstruck. Struck so dumb it was as if a runaway train had knocked the voice right out of me. Eventually, however, I was able to squeeze out, “Pity?”  
  
But no one was listening to me. Rather, they were all chiming in agreement! Even Oofy, apparently forgetting that he had dismissed his valet for expressing related sentiments.  
  
“Now, hang on a moment—” I struggled to make myself heard over the din of ungentlemanly assertions in re my valet. “Dash it…that is to say, all of you would like to be  _in flagrante delicto_  with Jeeves?”  
  
“Well, yes, I mean, he would be the only man I could see myself committing improprieties with,” Oofy stated nonchalantly.  
  
“If the opportunity presented itself…” Barmy put in.  
  
“Especially if it were right after his annual shrimping holiday,” Eustace cackled, “When he’s looking even more fit than usual.”  
  
“After all, have you ever taken a good look at his hands?” Claude addressed no one in particular.  
  
And they were off again! Discussing the virtues of Jeeves’s—my valet’s—hair, eyes, torso… when someone mentioned his thighs, I knew I had to break in.  
  
“But, his marvelous brain! Have you all forgotten Jeeves’s miraculous grey matter?” I cried.   
  
But they would have none of it! All I had succeeded in doing was drawing the attention in the room back to yours truly, who was immediately bombarded with questions of an extremely intimate nature. I won’t go so far as to provide exact quotes, but the jist of the inquiry was as follows: So-called chums did not believe that I had never broached the subj. with Jeeves; So-called chums wished to know in what stages of undress I had seen my valet (fortunately I had my wits about me enough to leave out the occasion I coaxed Jeeves into going for a swim with me on a beach holiday once); So-called chums bade me put in a good word for them, each describing in detail a special obscene talent they had. And as I made my escape, I was subjected to a hail of remarks about how the conversation must be giving me a physical sense of urgency to biff off home to Jeeves.  
  
But even as I made my denials, I seemed unable to expunge (if that is the word I want) the image of Jeeves gliding through the surf from my mind. The thing was, it was a secluded cove on the beach, and Jeeves doesn’t own a bathing suit.


End file.
